


The Wind WIll Fill Your Sails

by Smilla



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: 2007, Established Realtionship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilla/pseuds/Smilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking the extra step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wind WIll Fill Your Sails

**The Wind Will fill your Sails**  
*

Martin issues his invitation during the third coffee break. The lines between Martin's eyebrows are deep, long canyons of worry and for a moment Danny panics at the reason that had Martin distracted and anxious all day long.

Martin drops the first packet of cream into his cup, the second follows shortly and before talking, he unwraps the third. He stops his hand mid-air, and when he talks he does it slowly and quietly, and his words catch Danny by surprise because all they're doing – all they've done for the last four months – is fucking. Nothing less and nothing more. And no matter how pretty Martin is and how mind-blowing is the sex, Danny's not going to pretend any differently.

Danny is not going to hope any differently.

***

The ride is fast and Martin's car familiar. The ride is also silent, something indefinite hanging between them. Silence is probably essential, Danny reflects, because Martin is breathing slowly and carefully as if fearing a loud breath can break it.

Danny feels, but doesn't see, the looks Martin gives him. He's alternating between Danny and the sky, and now there is something else worrying Martin in the form of angry clouds ripe with rain looming above. Danny would laugh at Martin's seriousness but the electricity in the air makes his skin tingle; he feels restless without a reason, a nervous energy he vents picking at loose threads on the cuff of his sweater.

 

***

 

The afternoon is half-lighted and already windy, sand and salt in the air, the strong smell of ozone. The ocean is a deep dark blue and Martin is walking fast toward a one-storey house with white fences and a large patio. He trusts Danny to follow and Danny does, watches him closing the door against the wind. Martin smiles apologetically and makes a sign with his hand encompassing all the space behind him.

Danny takes a look. He had imagined opulence and luxury. What he sees is a nice living room, yellow couch and a matching chair, clear furniture and blank walls. Pallid drapes against the windows move imperceptibly with the wind.

He looks at Martin, busy doing something near the kitchenette in the corner, watches the ripples of muscle of his back under the thin layer of his cotton shirt.

He is enthralled by the spell Martin's put on him with a brilliant smile and the looks he sometimes lets Danny give to his soul. A sudden and unwanted realization hits Danny. And with it comes the fear, circles slowly around the beat of his heart: compression and exhalation.

But Martin's hands are steady on his shoulder and his smile is quiet. _Come with me_, he says, circles Danny's wrist with two of his fingers.

 

***

The point is that they have fucked plenty of times but Danny's sure this is the first time they've made love.

The problem is that Danny can get used to it.

 

***

They lose the power between the first and the second boom of thunder. Danny remembers because he's kissing Martin's fingers when it happens and suddenly they are in the dark. Danny doesn't stop, feels the vibration of it in the soles of his feet planted firmly on the floor. When the flash whitens the room it leaves the impression of Martin's body on his eyes: form loose and open and paler against the dark.

The glow of the candlelight comes after. At its light, Danny sees Martin's red mouth that tastes of his come, the lazy curve of his neck. Large flush spread on his chest, and the pulsing beating of his heart fluttering against Danny's palm. Martin swallows, works his throat up and down twice and he says _I love you_.

 

***

 

_Did you know?_ Martin asks after a while.

_No,_ Danny says, but he's feeling dizzy, disjointed and drunk with something close to joy. _Didn't let myself hope._ Moment of truth. He can't lie to Martin now, even if he wanted to.

_Why here?_ Danny asks, curious. Why here, why now, why me? he wants to add. Martin smiles, cants his head as if listening to something far and away, shrugs imperceptibly. _ Nothing bad ever happened in this house,_ he says. Danny nods, says nothing because he's not sure he understands. He's not sure he cares because whatever it is gave him this Martin.

 

***

 

The sea roars and crashes against the rocks; rain stopped two hours ago, left behind a field of white clouds and the black sky, a rounded, silver moon peaking through them. Wind still blows fast and hard, though; it whistles salty and cold through the creaks in the windows, makes the flames of the candles dance madly.

Danny sees the shadows tremble against the wall. Martin huddles closer on a sigh, shivers, feet and hands too cold compared to the roaring heat of the rest of his body. There is a warm glow on Martin's face, the darker shadow of a bite mark Danny doesn't regret on the vulnerable skin just under his ear.

It's a good feeling, the weight of Martin against his side, the warm slickness of it. Danny sighs, accepts because he can't refuse, and will not and Martin's offered what Danny could never grasp, what Danny never had. He tightens his arm around Martin's chest, settles deeper under the blanket and closes his eyes.

 

***

 

It's the word love that is catching on Danny's brain. The composition of letters strange on his tongue, Danny is seriously having problems getting it right. Martin kisses him sloppily and wetly, certain and purposeful like Martin has never been with Danny, and the wonder of it catches on Danny's brain.

_Will you love me forever?_ Danny asks when the kiss ends; whispers it against Martin's ear, because he still can't say it out loud, not yet. Waits for the answer on an indrawn breath.

And it's kind of a childish question. Naïve like Danny isn't; he knows forever doesn't exist in his life, never has, but Martin, it seems, makes everything possible. Even something as immeasurable as forever.

_Sure_, Martin says.

Sure, he says. And Danny's smile is tremulous and his hands are reverent when they slide under the blanket, touch Martin's skin, the softer part of Martin's navel. Danny threads his fingers lower, follows the scatter of hairs there and stops only when he finds Martin's cock. Takes the weight of it on his hand, feels its shape on his palms, the beating, hot consistence of it.

It's Martin who searches Danny's mouth this second time, pants against it for a moment then opens it with his tongue, brief hesitation, as if to ask for permission, and then he's inside exploring and demanding.

They stay like that for an eternity: Danny hanging on some invisible thread ready to fall any moment now, overwhelmed by Martin's touch and hard with the scent of him.

Outside the night is silvery and the waves crash powerfully against the rocks, boil in thick white foam and dissolve on the white banks.

\--


End file.
